


Hannah Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

by kahlen369



Series: Hannah Lily Potter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Female Harry, Gen, Mentor!McGonagall, Slow Burn, Slytherin!Harry, genderswap AU, world-building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kahlen369/pseuds/kahlen369
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another world,  there is a <i>girl </i>with a lightning shaped scar, who looks just like her mother, with her father's hazel eyes. Still, there is a magical world waiting to be discovered and a completely different adventure to embark on. </p><p>An AU where the Potters have a daughter instead of a son. This causes a cascade of differences, the first of which is Hannah bringing out the protective instincts in Professor McGonagall, and the Deputy Headmistress herself brings him his letter and introduces him to the magical world. And the path only diverges more from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

James Potter had always wanted a son. Someone to share his Quidditch obsession, someone to carry on his pranking legacy as a Marauder-someone to be a miniature James. So when the baby that his wife was carrying turned out to be a girl, he was more than a bit disappointed (something which disgruntled Lily to no end-she had wanted a girl, after all).

But the moment his baby daughter was born, perhaps to no one's surprise but his, he was instantly in love with her, and all his dreams of a James Jr. were forgotten. He loved Hannah Lily Potter and was already vowing to hex any boy that came within ten feet of his baby daughter.

It was enough to make Lily roll her eyes. But she was glad. She had been a bit worried that James would let all his ridiculous fantasies of the next James stop him from fully loving Hannah. She should have known that her fears were just that-fears. Groundless ideas fueled by worry and an overactive imagination.

Hannah Potter was already quite the daddy's girl. Lily swore she had him wrapped around her tiny baby finger. He was gaga over her, spoiling her absolutely rotten. She wondered if every man was simply putty in their daughters' hands; she had been quite the daddy's girl herself.

She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as she watched her husband feed their daughter. He had oatmeal on his nose and robes but didn't seem to mind. She observed them with a smile, thinking that in a way, James had gotten what he wanted in Hannah. His daughter looked just like him, right down to the messy black hair and ever present grin. The only proof that she had any contribution to Hannah's conception were her bright green eyes.

Hannah had even inherited his Quidditch talent (it certainly didn't come from her; she was rubbish on a broom), already flying like the next big Quidditch star on her toy broom. James was absolutely ecstatic and Lily could only shake her head in exasperation and mild disapproval. Her boisterous baby girl was really her father's daughter. But she couldn't really feel angry about that. Because even with all the complaints, she was happier than she had been in a long time. Since the start of the war, things had been getting worse by the day. She had begun to feel the strain of it all and was a lot less happy for it.

But when baby Hannah came along, she felt as if her heart would burst from joy. Hannah Lily Potter had brought hope to their house. Even when they were forced to go into hiding to protect their daughter's life, she still felt unreasonably happy. Though the threat of death hung over their heads, she found that as long as their daughter was safe, she could be happy.

When the time came that she was forced to meet her maker, she had little regrets. She had done all she could to save her daughter, and maybe it would be enough. Though their time together had been cut tragically short, they were still the happiest times of her life, and she could find no regret in that. She found peace at the thought of her daughter, happy and safe. She clung to that hope as the green light struck her.

 ---

Minerva McGonagall had been against the idea of sending Hannah Potter to live with her Muggle relatives since the beginning, and the feeling only intensified over the years. She had had her doubts that day, but had been swayed by Albus' words easily enough. Too easily, she thought in retrospect. It had been a mistake, to send her to live with her only living blood relatives. Because though they were related by blood, they couldn't be further apart in the ways that mattered. Petunia and Vernon Dursley were the poster children for anti-muggle propaganda. They hated Magic to an unreasonable degree and mercilessly took it out on Hannah. They treated their niece horribly, feeding her the barest minimum needed for survival—she was an absolute rail!—and making her do all the chores while her oversized cousin lounged around, played games, and bullied Hannah. And all without one kind word to her! The way they spoke to her! They treated her little better than a house elf—and at least house elves enjoyed doing chores. It was shameful, and it made Minerva more than a bit angry.

She had told Albus on more than one occasion how they treated Hannah. But every time, he would gloss over their actions and comfort her over what she saw. As if she were the one needing comforting! His callous reactions had caused her to be more than a bit chilly with him as of late. And his absolute refusal to tell her anything only made it worse her. She was not an idiot. She knew that he was just as incensed at the Dursley's actions as she was (he wasn't that good of an actor either; she had known him for over twenty years after all)—but for some reason that he wouldn't tell her, he couldn't do anything about it. Which was bloody ridiculous! He was Albus Dumbledore! The only wizard Voldemort ever feared! Did he really expect her to believe that he was afraid of a bunch of bigoted Muggles?

Whatever it was, it had to be more important than that. Nothing less could excuse such negligence. She only wished that he would simply tell her what it was so she could stop beating him and herself up over Hannah's living conditions. But Albus Dumbledore was quite the stubborn man. She knew that he would not relent once his mind was made up so she could only sigh and hope that he knew what he was doing. Which contrary to the Wizarding world was not all the time. Albus Dumbledore was only a man after all. A very powerful and brilliant man, but still a man. And men make mistakes. Minerva could only hope this wasn't one of them.

Minerva was only all too glad when the day finally came to give Hannah Potter her school letter.


	2. The Letters, Minerva McGonagall and Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah receives a bunch of letters, and reads none of them thanks to Uncle Vernon. A few weeks later, Minerva McGonagall finally shows up on the Dursley's doorstep to deliver the letter personally, and after a few choice words with Aunt Petunia, takes Hannah shopping at Diagon Alley for the rest of the day.

  
Hannah Potter was sitting on the bed of the smallest bedroom of the house on number 4 Pivet Drive. Only a few days ago, she would've given anything up to be in this room. Now, she would gladly trade it for the mysterious letter Uncle Vernon seemed hell-bent on never letting her read. It only sparked her curiosity even more, and by now she was simply dying to know what was inside it. But all her various plans to get the letter had been foiled by Uncle Vernon. When she had gone down extra early the third day to get the letter before he could, she almost tripped against his sleeping body. A lot of shouting and bad words later, she still had no letter.

The tension in the house on number 4 Pivet Drive was close to bursting. Uncle Vernon had gone increasingly mad in his attempts so stop the letters from coming. First, had nailed the mail slot shut. Then, when the letter were simply pushed under the door and slotted through the sides, he boarded up all the cracks on the front and back door.

By the time Sunday came around, everyone in the house was filled with various contrasting emotions. Uncle Vernon seemed almost calm, sure that his latest attempt has worked; Aunt Petunia seemed anxious, she just wanted everything to go back to normal; Dudley was confused, what was all the fuss about the stupid letter?; Hannah was excited, hoping this time, she would have an opportunity to get one of the letters.

Uncle Vernon practically jumped when the doorbell rang. Instead of the milkman as they expected, however, a tall, black-haired woman wearing conservative clothes and a severe expression stood at the door.

She narrowed her eyes dangerously as she observed him, "Vernon Dursley, I presume?"

Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes in a similar way but didn't nearly have as much threatening effect as the stern-looking woman, "Who are you?"

She looked at him as though he had a very unpleasant odor and said in a clipped tone, "May I come in?"

"No, you may not." Uncle Vernon replied rudely.

Seemingly unsurprised at such a response, she pointedly ignored the man as she entered the house anyway.

"This is a conversation you do not want to be heard by your neighbors." She added contemptuously. Looking around the hallway, her eyes rested on Hannah. An emotion Hannah couldn't quite place was in her eyes.

"Hannah..." The woman whispered almost apologetically. How did this mysterious woman know her name? She didn't know anybody aside from the Dursleys and a few neighbors like Mrs. Figg. She was quickly reminded of the odd man who had waved to her when she was younger. But this woman was different. She seemed like she actually knew her. Maybe she had known her parents?

"Who are you and why are you in my house?" Uncle Vernon asked angrily, bringing everyone's attention back to him.

The woman slowly turned to face him, eyes never leaving Hannah, before bluntly saying, "I am here to escort Hannah Potter to Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry."

"What?" Hannah and Uncle Vernon said at the same time.

"You are not taking her to that place!" It was, to Hannah's surprise, Aunt Petunia who spoke. How did she know what a Hogwarts was? Aunt Petunia hated everything that wasn't perfectly normal. And Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry was as far from normal as you could possibly get.

"You have no right to decide that!" The woman spat back venomously, and Aunt Petunia quailed under her harsh gaze. "You gave up that right the moment you first abused Hannah!"

Aunt Petunia seemed to cringe at the word and she sputtered, "I-I only did… w-what I had t-to do…"

"What you had to do?" she raised an eyebrow patronizingly, "I have not forgotten you, Petunia Dursley. Nor have I forgotten your sister, Lily."

Aunt Petunia looked stunned at this revelation and Hannah guessed she didn't recognize the tall woman—though the woman obviously recognized her.

"I have read the letter, and know as well as you do what it says," the woman said ominously and Aunt Petunia's face drained of color. Hannah wondered exactly what letter the woman was talking about and what on earth was going on, "Do not take out your foolish grudges on an innocent child."

This seemed to finally snap Aunt Petunia out of her trance because she said scathingly, "Innocent? No child of your-your kind-is innocent! You're all a bunch of freaks!" She screamed the word 'freaks' and Hannah had to cover her ears. "Just like my dratted sister! Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that—that school-and came home every vacation with pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was—a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!" She took a deep breath; it seemed she had wanted to say all this for years.

"Wait-so it's true?" Hannah suddenly cut in, and Aunt Petunia turned to stare at her, suddenly closing her mouth—as if she had just realized what she let slip out. Hannah didn't doubt there was more she wanted to say but she didn't particularly care at the moment. "Witches and wizards—are real?" She asked uncertainly.

It was the mysterious woman who answered, "Yes, Hannah, they are."

Hannah nodded slowly, unsure whether or not to believe this, before slowly asking, "…And I'm one too?"

"Yes," she replied before drawing something from inside her coat.

It was one of the letters.

Hannah's eyes widened as she took the letter from the woman's hands. She read quickly.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await you owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

When Hannah was done reading she looked up at the woman.

"You mean I'm going to this school—Hogwarts?"

Before the woman could reply Uncle Vernon suddenly spoke up, "She's not going!"

The woman slowly turned to face him and Hannah could see that Uncle Vernon was fighting the urge to cringe.

"I'd like to see you stop her." She said dangerously and this time Uncle Vernon did cringe.

When Uncle Vernon managed to find his voice, he said shakily, "W-we swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," his voice grew stronger as he spoke, "We swore we'd stamp it out of her! Witch indeed!" He was purple in the face by the time he was done speaking.

"I will not tolerate such words, Vernon Dursley." She warned and Uncle Vernon wisely stopped talking, "Hannah Potter will be attending Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry this September." She said the words with finality, effective cutting off any objections.

"And if you dare try and stop her, I promise you, I will not be as lenient as I have been today." The woman looked absolutely serious and even Hannah felt a chill run down her spine at her promise.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed to have finally gotten the message and did not say a word of objection.

"Now," she said in a far lighter tone as she turned towards Hannah, "We have some school shopping to do." She gave a small frown.

"And perhaps some clothes shopping, as well." She added as she observed Hannah's clothes. Hannah felt her face flush as the woman turned to give the Dursley another glare.

"Hold my hand tightly, if you will."

Hannah obeyed, grabbing the woman's right hand tightly. Before she could ask where they were going, she suddenly felt a pulling sensation near her stomach, and the world before her eyes disappeared. The last thing she saw was the Dursley's huddled together in the hallway, not one of them waving goodbye.

A moment later, she was feeling distinctly lightheaded as she took in where she was. They were definitely not at Pivet Drive, anymore. She wasn't sure they were still in London, for that matter. Everywhere she looked, there was something out-of-this-world. The sun shone brightly and she could see inside the nearest shop. It was filled with what Hannah realized where cauldrons. 'Cauldrons—All Sizes-Copper, brass, Pewter, Silver-Self-Stirring—Collapsible', was what the sign over the shop said.

"This is Diagon Alley," she explained, "It is Wizarding street that is completely hidden from the Muggles—that's what we call non-magical folk. You can buy various things here-all your school supplies can also be bought here." Hannah nodded, looking around her. There were shops selling owls, shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver things Hannah had never seen before.

The woman nudged her on the shoulder and Hannah realized with a start that she didn't know the woman's name (though the woman clearly knew hers).

"Um," Hannah paused, feeling a bit awkward, "I'm, er, sorry but I haven't actually caught you name?"

The woman blinked before giving a small smile—the first she had seen on the stern looking woman since she appeared in front of the doorstep to what seemed to Hannah like a million years ago (though what was only most likely less than fifteen minutes ago). Hannah was pleasantly surprised to see what a world of difference it made to the woman's appearance. She didn't look so scary when she was smiling.

"Minerva McGonagall."

Hannah was sure she had heard that name somewhere before, though she had no idea how; it wasn't like she knew many witches. Then, with sudden realization, she took out the letter she had stuffed in her back pocket earlier. Yes, that's where she had heard the name before.

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

That was what the letter had said.

"Deputy Headmistress?" Hannah Potter may not have had much knowledge of magical schools but she had enough of normal human schools, and she assumed they were the same enough that the word had the same meaning in both. "No offense, but do witches and wizards have a different meaning for that word?"

At her confused look, Hannah explained, "Most schools do not usually send the Deputy Headmistress for something as menial as collecting a student."

"Ah…" She looked a bit startled, as if she hadn't expected such an observation, "…You are correct, Hannah Potter." She said finally. "I see you have inherited your mother's observational skills." She smiled faintly.

"Wait… Did you know my mother?" Stupid question, she thought to herself, she did just say in front of Aunt Petunia that she knew both of them (though for some reason Aunt Petunia was shocked).

"I did," Minerva answered anyway, "She was a student at Hogwarts during my tenure."

Hannah nodded, she had guessed that. The woman—Minerva—was rather well on in the years, after all.

"She was a brilliant witch, your mother." And she gave another faint smile, though this one was slightly rueful. "So was your father, in his own way. He had a group of friends-the Marauders,they called themselves. Worst pranksters I've ever seen. Though the Weasley twins are no angels, either." She shook her head in the way that only a teacher can, half disapproving, half amused.

Hannah found herself transfixed by Minerva McGonagall's words. This was the first time she had ever heard someone other than Aunt Petunia (who never had many nice things to say about them, anyway) mention her parents. It was nice to think that somebody, at least, liked her parents.

"Were you close to them, Ma'am?" Hannah asked eagerly. Minerva knew her parents—she wasn't about to waste an opportunity for questions.

"As close as a strict teacher could be to a bunch of pranksters, yes." She smiled faintly again, and Hannah guessed her parents were probably some of her favorite students.

"And call me Professor McGonagall. You'll need to get used to it once you get to school anyhow." She added sternly.

"Now, I'd love to tell you more about your parents, but I think that now is not the time." She gestured to the busy crowd around them, and Hannah suddenly realized where she was. It was so easy to get distracted when everything—even the person she was travelling with—was so interesting.

"I suppose a crowded street isn't the best place for a chat, is it?" Hannah smiled a bit sheepishly and she was glad to see Professor McGonagall returned the gesture (if more muted).

"We will have time for conversation later. Now, we must buy some things for you." She said as she began to walk.

Hannah moved to follow until she suddenly realized something, "—Wait, I don't have any money with me! And Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia will never give me money now!" She was beginning to panic. What was she going to do?

"Calm down, Hannah," Professor McGonagall placed a hand on her shoulder, "You may not know this, but your parents were quite rich."

"They were?" Hannah asked in surprise. She didn't know that, and she doubted the Dursleys did either. Because if they did, she had no doubt they would take all the money-dead or not-money was money, after all.

"At least in the Wizarding world, so certain Muggles wouldn't be able to get it." Hannah felt her face flush a bit when Professor McGonagall answered her unasked question, but did not feel guilty; her worries regarding the Dursleys were probably not unfounded. She wondered how Professor McGonagall was able to guess what she was thinking, though, and figured it was magic.

"They have a trust fund set to you, in my knowledge. The rest of the money, you won't be able to access until you turn of age. Which by Wizarding standards is the day you turn seventeen."

Hannah nodded. She'd never had any money in her life before so any money, even a little, was bound to be a lot to her.

"We need to go to Gringott's—that's the the Wizarding Bank—to access it. The key to your vault is with me, but I'll give it to you when the day is over." Professor McGonagall explained and Hannah nodded again.

"I should warn you though," Professor McGonagall looked like she was struggling to find the words, "The bank isn't run by humans—neither Muggles nor Wizards, though there are some wizards that work there. …It's run by goblins." She finished a bit lamely and Hannah wondered if this was her first time explaining these things to someone who was completely new to the Wizarding world.

"Goblins?"

"Yes, they are small beings who, while do not have wands, can do magic as well. They are clever beings and I warn you to never cross one as you will most likely be the one to lose in such an exchange. Because they run Gringott's—the only Wizard bank in Britain-they are an integral part of the Wizarding World. Yet they are often looked down upon by wizards and thus have a rather antagonistic relationship with them-us. There have been many Goblin rebellions over the years."

Professor McGonagall paused to look at Hannah and Hannah nodded to show she understood, though she really didn't—not fully anyway.

"Don't worry. Goblins, as well as the various other beings that inhabit the Wizarding world are part of the school curriculum at Hogwarts."

Hannah nodded again, this time a bit more enthusiastically; she wondered exactly what other fantastical beings there were in the Wizarding world. Were fairies and unicorns, and all those real too?

"One more thing, are you by any chance affected by motion sickness?"

"I don't think so." Hannah answered a bit uncertainly; she hadn't really travelled much in her short life, so she wasn't really sure.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully, "the way to travel to the vaults is through a small cart that travels using old fashioned railroad tracks. It rather fast, so if you feel you aren't up to it; tell me now so you can just wait in the lobby while go down by myself."

"I can handle it." Hannah said as confidently as she could. She didn't want to miss out on what promised to be an adventure just because her stomach might not be able to handle it.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall nodded, "Now, come, we really are running a bit behind with all this talk."

With that she began walking and Hannah followed, eyes taking in the sights around her.

The shops weren't the only things interesting about Diagon Alley. Even the things outside them and the people doing their shopping were interesting. She could see most of them were wearing robes of various colors, and a couple were even wearing traditional black witch hats.

Hannah was so distracted by everything around her she almost walked into the Professor when she suddenly stopped.

"Here we are," she said, "Gringott's."

Hannah saw a snowy white building that was gigantic compared to the other shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was what Hannah guessed to be a goblin. Professor McGonagall's description was fairly accurate, she supposed. They were rather small, with very long fingers and feet. She could see in their face and eyes that they were indeed clever beings and not someone to mess with.

The goblin bowed as they were walking inside, and Hannah, unsure of whether or not to return the gesture, settled for a short nod-to which the goblin stared at in confusion and surprise. Hannah barely had time to wonder what she did wrong when they walked through yet another set of doors—silver this time.

They were now in a rather vast marble hall, and about a hundred goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales and other various things.

"Excuse me," Professor McGonagall said politely to a goblin with a pointed beard, "We're here to make a withdrawal from the Hannah Potter Trust Vault."

"Do you have the key, ma'am?"

"Here," Professor McGonagall held up a tiny golden key.

"Everything seems to be in order," The goblin said after he (or at least Hannah assumed it was a he) looked at it closely for a few moments. "I will have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!"

Another goblin, Griphook, approached them. Griphook led them towards one of the doors in the hall. He held the door open for them, and Hannah said 'thanks' (missing Griphook's startled look) before staring at the narrow stone passageway that stretched before them. She had expected more marble, so she was rather surprised.

As they walked, Hannah noticed Professor McGonagall was staring rather oddly at her. She was curious as to why but knew better than to ask. Instead, she simply walked silently, following Griphook. They walked for a few moments before Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They climbed in and were off.

Professor McGonagall turned out to be right, unsurprisingly. The carts were rather fast and Hannah was thankful to find that she did not indeed have motion sickness and was perfectly fine as the cart zoomed through a maze of twisting passages. She noticed Griphook wasn't steering and that the cart was moving on its own, somehow knowing which turn to take at every fork.

Hannah's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. She didn't want to miss a thing. Once, she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage but was too late to get a good look at it.

"Are there any dragons in here?" Hannah asked Professor McGonagall over the roar of the cart.

"Some, as well as other creatures for security measures." Professor McGonagall answered back factually.

The cart hurtled on and they passed an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never remember," Hannah asked again, over the noise, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalactites are the ones above while stalagmites grow from the bottom."

At last, the cart stopped beside a small door in the passage wall. They both got out as Griphook unlocked the door. Green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Hannah couldn't help but gasp. Inside were mounds of gold, columns of silver and little heaps of bronze.

"And this is just your trust fund," Professor McGonagall said as she began putting coins into a bag, "The Potter Vault—which you will inherit when you turn seventeen, has even more."

Hannah rushed to help her as her mind reeled. Professor McGonagall had said her parents were rich, but the thought hadn't really set itself in Hannah's mind until she saw all the money in the vault. Her parents really had been rich! And now—she was rich!

"The gold ones are called Galleons," Professor McGonagall explained and Hannah forced herself out of her thoughts and listened, "they're the highest form of currency and one of them is worth seventeen of the silver ones; they're called Sickles. One sickle is worth twenty-nine of the bronze ones; they're called Knuts." She had shown her each of the coins as she explained.

"No paper money?"

She shook her head, "Only coins."

They finished filling up the bag and by the end, it was rather heavy. The cart ride back was perhaps a bit less exciting than the first to Hannah because she already knew what to expect, but it was still rather fun and reminded Hannah of the Muggle roller coasters she never got to ride.

When they returned to the lobby, though, they didn't immediately leave the Wizard bank.

"You could do with some new clothes." she said as she eyed Hannah. "Muggle would probably be best, but since they don't sell any here at Diagon Alley we'll have to try some Muggle shops in London. And we'll need some Muggle money for that." She explained.

Hannah felt her face flush red from shame and embarrassment; the Dursleys never wasted any money on Hannah if they could help it—and that included clothes. Hannah had been forced to wear Dudley's hand-me-downs her whole life-right down to his underwear.

It was the reason people often mistook her for a boy-and that reason was why she had taken to wearing her hair quite long, despite the Dursleys protests. It was also the reason why Hannah was rather ostracized by her peers. After all, who would want to hang out with a girl who wore overly baggy boys' clothes (thankfully, they didn't know about the underwear)?

Dudley had never missed out on a moment to insult Hannah over her lack of friends. Hannah was often quite angry when she pointed out that it was all his fault in the first place (if less directly than his parents) and often had a bad remark for him. Though she usually regretted her rash actions when the Dursleys punished her far more severely than was warranted.

The sad thing was that Dudley was actually treating her better than when they were children. Back then, he didn't mind hitting girls, and neither did the rest of his gang. As much of a feminist as she was (which wasn't really all that much), she was quite thankful for the double standard when it came to hitting girls after a certain age.

"Don't be ashamed dear," Professor McGonagall said sternly but kindly, "It's not your fault. It's the Dursleys' and don't you forget it."

Hannah could only nod.

"Now come, I'm afraid I'm not much of an expert when it comes to Muggle currency. Perhaps you could help me make the exchange?" She led them towards a counter that exchanged Wizarding currency for Muggle ones.

When they got out of the bank, Hannah had a bag full of Wizarding money and a bag full of Muggle ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the shopping was originally supposed to be in one chapter but I felt like it was getting too long I've decided to split it into two. 
> 
> Do you think Minerva is in character here? She will be playing a big part in the story, as a grandmotherly sort of figure.
> 
> Also, about the POV--mostly it will be from Hannah's but there will be some from others, such as Minerva, Hermione, etc.


	3. Madam Malkins, Flourish and Blotts and a Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah gets her robes and meets Draco in the shop. Afterwards, she gets all her school required books and then some, before receiving a gift from Professor McGonagall.

"It's only nine-thirty so we have a couple of hours before lunch." She said as she glanced at her watch. "I think we should finish up our shopping at Diagon Alley before we head to the Muggle shops for clothes. Is that all right with you, Hannah?" Professor McGonagall asked kindly.

"It's alright, Professor McGonagall." Hannah said cheerfully. She wouldn't mind seeing more Wizarding shops, they certainly sounded more interesting than a muggle clothes shop (though she was excited to get some new clothes-girl clothes, for once).

"Very well then," She nodded before she asked, "do you have your list?" At Hannah's confused look, she sighed and explained, "It was with the letter I gave you a while ago."

Hannah took out the letter and saw a second piece of parchment she hadn't noticed before. She smiled sheepishly as she unfolded it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black) One plain pointed hat (black) for day wearOne pair of protective glovers (dragon hide or similar)One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry nametags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

By Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

By Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

By Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

By Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS  


"Since Madam Malkin's is near here, we should get your school robes first." Professor McGonagall pointed to a nearby shop that had the sign 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'.

'Madam Malkin' turned out to be a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve.

"Oh, Professor McGonagall! What brings you so far away from Hogwarts?" The small witch exclaimed in surprise and Hannah got the feeling Professor McGonagall didn't go out of Hogwarts very often.

"Just helping out a new muggleborn student," She replied casually and Hannah did not miss how she pointedly failed to mention her name. She would have to ask about that later.

"Ah," Madam Malkin nodded knowingly, "I see Headmaster Dumbledore is treating his Deputy less like a second-in-command and more like a personal assistant again." She said disapprovingly.

Professor McGonagall sighed, "I told you it's not like that Silvia!"

Madam Malkin shook her head sadly before saying, "I tell you, Minerva, doing chores for him will not make him want to marry you!"

"Silvia!" She hissed, "I told you I do not like Albus Dumbledore in that matter! He is just a very good friend of mine!" Madam Malkin only shook her head again and muttered what sounded to Hannah like 'still in denial'. Hannah wondered who this 'Albus Dumbledore' person was but decided that Professor McGonagall probably wouldn't appreciate her asking.

"And anyway," Professor McGonagall continued, "I want to take a more proactive role in the student's lives by helping them."

"Whatever you say, Minerva," she said placatingly, clearly not convinced, "Now, come on dear, I'll get you fitted." She said to Hannah.

The three of them went to the back of the shop where a pale boy with blonde hair was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Hannah on a stool next to the boy, slipped a long black robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length.

Up close, Hannah could see the boy was rather pretty, in a delicate sort of way. He had beautiful hair and for a moment Hannah was rather jealous of it, thinking annoyedly at her own messy black locks.

"Hello," the boy said to her, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes." Hannah answered, snapping out of her daze. Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah could see Professor McGonagall staring neutrally at the boy. Hannah wondered what that was all about and resolved to ask later.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy continued. Hannah noticed he had a bored, drawling voice that contrasted with his delicate features. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own."

The boy was surreptitiously glancing (unsuccessfully; as Hannah could easily see this) at Professor McGonagall and Hannah realized he was gauging her reaction, and more importantly whether or not he could say something potentially implicating in front of her. Hannah also realized the boy probably didn't know that she was not only a Professor at Hogwarts (Hannah ought to ask later what subject she taught) but also the Deputy Headmistress there.

"First years are not allowed to have their own brooms because the majority of them do not know how to fly yet, because a majority of them have only recently been introduced to the Wizarding world." Professor McGonagall spoke up imperiously.

Malfoy looked like he wanted to say something but was wisely staying silent, probably sensing she wasn't someone to cross with. Instead, he turned to face Hannah and continued in his drawling voice, "So, what House do you think you'll be in at Hogwarts?"

"Uh, I don't know." Hannah replied, really not knowing what the boy was talking about.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been, after all."

Hannah could swear she saw Professor McGonagall's narrow the tiniest fraction at the boy's words and promised to ask her about that later as well.

The boy didn't talk anymore after that, though Hannah suspected that was less because he had nothing to say and more because Professor McGonagall was listening in on their conversation.

Any further conversation was cut off as Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, dear." Hannah was not at all sad about leaving the boy and the slightly awkward silence.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," the boy said as they left the shop.

The sun was shining quite brightly when they made it out the store. Professor managed to forestall any more comments from Madam Malkin by saying she was very busy (which wasn't really a lie; they were quite busy, Hannah supposed) and hurriedly pushing Hannah out of the store. Hannah was actually rather amused by the whole ordeal (discounting the odd and rather arrogant seeming boy) but was wisely not commenting about at as she sensed Professor McGonagall didn't find it quite as amusing as she did.

"'Flourish and Blotts' is right around the corner, so we should go there next. You'll be able to buy your school books there, and any other reading materials you might like. Though since there's an able-sized library at Hogwarts you probably won't need to buy anything else," was Professor McGonagall's reply when Hannah asked where they were going next.

Hannah got the impression Professor McGonagall was the kind of woman who liked reading very much (she was a teacher, after all), and though Hannah wasn't exactly averse to reading, she certainly had no sort of inborn passion for it. Still, she had no doubt that Wizarding books would be infinitely more interesting than Muggle ones, so she was still rather excited.

Hannah was right when she assumed Wizarding books to be more interesting than Muggle ones. There were plenty of books at 'Flourish and Blotts', and all of them were interesting. The shelves at the store were stacked to the ceiling with books of various sizes; some were as thick as several dictionaries stacked together, while others were simply book covers with nothing inside them. There were books written in French, and Spanish and Chinese and various other languages, and even ones written in nothing but odd symbols. Hannah was still browsing through the stacks of books when Professor McGonagall informed her it was time to leave.

"As much as I approve of reading, I'm afraid we simply haven't got the time today." Professor McGonagall said apologetically.

Seeing the disappointment on Hannah's face, she added with a small kind smile, "I don't, however, see the problem, in bringing you back here in a few days time."

This brightened up Hannah greatly, though she did immediately ask, stammering slightly, "Are you sure that's alright? I mean, I know you're busy and all…" Hannah trailed off. "I wouldn't want to bother you." She said .

"You're not bothering me at all," the professor assured her, "it is my job, after all, to make you feel welcome at Hogwarts." She added with a small wink.

Hannah thought it looked slightly comical on the normally stern woman and managed a little giggle and smile in response. She knew that Professor McGonagall wasn't being entirely honest about her job description. However different the Magical world might be, she was pretty sure the job of a Deputy Headmistress was probably the same. And she knew that tasks like taking a student to a bookstore on what was no doubt a day off was not part of work.

Though the professor was stern and even a bit scary, she was really quite nice and even sweet.

"Perhaps you can buy a few extra books for your stay at Hogwarts. Though the Hogwarts library is quite well stocked, your own copy would be convenient, after all."

Hannah immediately broke into a grin and began to browse the stack of books with a brand new fervor.

In the end, Hannah had bought a total of seven extra books, in addition to her required school books.

They were Hogwarts, A History, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century (she did not fail to notice the odd look Professor McGonagall gave the book as she put it on the counter), Important Modern Magical Discoveries, Muggles Who Notice, Why Transfigure? (It came heavily recommended by Professor McGonagall), and Practical Applications of Magic (household spells, battle spells, and more).

Hannah had initially wanted to buy Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and much, much more) but Professor McGonagall had looked on rather disapprovingly (it didn't help that Hannah had a slightly evil look of glee on her face as she flipped through the book). When Hannah had told her that Dudley was her intended victim, Professor McGonagall replied that 'while he may be deserving of it, it is still wrong, and you shouldn't stoop to his level'. She also added that it was against the law to use magic against muggles because it apparently violated the Statute of Secrecy that stated Magic was to be kept secret from muggles. Though considering Dudley already knew of magic, it seemed like a moot point. She had told Professor McGonagall this, and the older witch replied, with a hint of disapproval and annoyance, "the people who make the law, I'm afraid, do not consider such things."

Hannah thought it was a bit stupid of them then, but did not voice such thoughts aloud. Though she was pretty sure Professor McGonagall would agree with her, considering her slightly disapproving tone.

Instead she asked, "Who makes the laws? The Wizarding Government?" She hazarded.

"Yes, you are correct," she answered with approval, "the Wizarding government of Great Britain, known as the Ministry of Magic, is the one who makes the laws. Though they all have to pass the Wizengamot, which is the Wizarding equivalent of high court and parliament. The Ministry's main purpose is to maintain the 'Statute of Secrecy', which is the international law that Magic must be kept secret from the Muggle world. Only the current Muggle President, Prime Minister, etc. is exempt form the law and is informed of Magic, and the Magical world by the current Minister for Magic, who is somewhat analogous to the President or Prime Minister. Though some nations are more lenient than others on the law, by and large, the Wizarding and Muggle worlds are largely separate."

"Why would they do that?" Hannah asked more out of curiosity than anything.

The question made the professor pause and for the first time since Hannah had met her, seemed to be at a loss for words. For a brief moment, Hannah wondered if she had said something wrong. But then, all she had asked was why. What was so bad about that? She asked herself.

The silence that followed made Hannah squirm. It felt oppressive, especially in the cramped bookstore. She wondered if she ought to say something, if only to break the silence.

But every time she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. She didn't know what to say. In the end, she decided to just wait for the professor to break the silence. In any case, she seemed to be deep in thought. Breaking the silence herself would've only made it more awkward, and probably break her train of thought too.

It was a long moment before Professor McGonagall spoke again, and when she did her words seemed a bit strained.

"I had hoped you wouldn't ask me that, Hannah," she managed a small laugh, "but I suppose you're just like your mother. Always so curious, so full of questions."

Whatever Hannah had been expecting her to say, it wasn't that.

The comparison to her mother made Hannah feel a bit odd. It wasn't often that people compared her to her parents, because the only people that had really known them were the Dursleys. And the Dursleys never had anything good to say about them.

So it was a bit odd to Hannah to finally meet someone who knew her parents, who liked her parents-even if only at a teacher-student level. She wasn't quite sure what to feel about being compared to someone she she had never met. How was she supposed to feel?

Before the mess of conflicting emotions could get a hold of her, Hannah told herself to focus on the matter at hand.

"That wasn't exactly answering my question." She said a bit more accusingly than she intended.

"No, it wasn't," Professor McGonagall conceded with a small sigh, "I suppose I was just stalling."

"The reason magic is kept secret from the Muggles is complicated. It's not something one can explain to an eleven year old easily."

"So you'll tell me when i'm older?" Hannah joked.

"...Yes, Hannah," the professor answered back seriously. "I suppose I will have to."

"For now, I will simply tell you the reason stated by the Ministry. 'Magic is kept secret from the Muggles because if it weren't, they'd be forever wanting to use magic to solve their problems instead of trying to solve them themselves.'"

Professor McGonagall's voice seemed to be a bit sarcastic as she quoted the Ministry, and Hannah got the feeling she was very experienced with mocking them.

She thought it would probably be best if she didn't place too much trust in the Ministry and their words, because certainly, the professor didn't seem to. And while it might've been a bit preemptive of her to think this (since she hadn't actually met anyone from the Ministry yet), she felt that Professor McGonagall was probably right in doing so.

Mostly putting the matter out of her mind, she told herself she would simply ask the professor again when she older, or perhaps ask someone a bit less caring of her age. Either way, questions of 'why' fled from her head.

"Anyway, would you like to buy anymore books?" Professor McGonagall asked with a bit too much relief in her voice.

Immediately, Hannah went back to browsing the shelves.

In the end, Hannah had bought Self-Defensive Spellwork, filled with mostly defensive spells, in place of Curses and Counter-Curses, which had been filled mostly with offensive (though mostly harmless) ones.

All of Hannah's books (schoolbooks and extra books alike) were quite thick and rather heavy as well, so Professor McGonagall cast a featherweight charm on them with her wand. Hannah had watched intrigued and amazed. It was quite one thing to hear about casting spells, and quite another to actually see a person casting spells.

Professor McGonagall explained to her the mechanics of spell casting (a sort of sneak-peek on what you'll be learning at Hogwarts). How the wave of the wand and the pronunciation of the spell all came together to achieve the goal of the spell. How the focus, the intent and the amount of magical energy a witch or wizard could affect the outcome of the spell, and much more.

"Spell casting, as well as all other forms of Magic, will take much practice before you are able to do anything." Professor McGonagall explained with a stern sort of look.

Hannah quickly realized that it would be quite a long time before she would be able to cast any spells properly.

"But do not worry. In time, you will be able to all these spells, and more." The professor added, this time more kindly. "For now, you will simply have to practice."

Their next stop was a more general shop where they bought most of the more miscellaneous things on the list of things to buy, such as the cauldron, phials, weighing scales and brass telescope. And while it was mostly filled with things like those, they did have a more interesting section filled with objects that whizzed and whirled, and certainly weren't found in any muggle shops in Britain.

Unfortunately, the professor had not allowed Hannah to buy anything else that was not on the list on the reason that it was simply not needed-she was after all, only a first year student. Hannah figured out that Professor McGonagall was not the type of person to engage in excessive extravagance (her exception was perhaps books, considering the amount she had spent at Flourish and Blotts), and was quite practical when it came to money ('just because you are rich, Hannah, does not mean you may spend money so carelessly').

The Apothecary was next, and it was certainly one of the more interesting shops. Though it smelled horrible and made Hannah's skin crawl ten different ways, all the same Hannah's curiosity was piqued the whole time. Barrels of slimy stuff were on the floor, jars of herbs, dried roots and bright powder lined the walls, and bundles of feathers, strings of fangs and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. Hannah kept herself busy staring at everything in the store while Professor McGonagall bought the needed supplies. Unlike the shops before, Hannah was not particularly tempted to buy any of the things in the Apothecary, and was simply content to look at them.

When they left the Apothecary, Hannah found Professor McGonagall was staring at her with a curious sort of look.

"Hannah," Professor McGonagall said suddenly, "would you like a familiar? They're sort of like pets, but are more intelligent than muggle animals."

Hannah didn't really need to think about it, she replied eagerly, "Sure!"

She never really had a pet—er, familiar-for various reasons (the Dursleys certainly wouldn't buy one for her, and they wouldn't let her keep anything she found on the streets either). The spiders in her closet didn't exactly count.

Professor McGonagall nodded, she had probably expected that answer.

"You're allowed a toad, cat or owl." She continued. "Which one would you prefer?"

This time, Hannah did need to think about it.

She didn't really fancy the idea of a toad; nothing bad about them, they just weren't her type. But a cat or an owl was good. Hannah was silent for a while, contemplating which to choose.

Now, Hannah didn't really have anything against cats, but the more Hannah thought about it, the more ordinary they seemed-well, compared to an owl, anyway.

"Could I get an owl?" Hannah asked with a grin.

Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded, though Hannah thought she could detect the barest hint of disappointment (perhaps she had wanted her to pick a cat or toad?).

They went to 'Eeylops Owl Emporium', which was dark and full of rustling wings and flickering jewel-bright eyes. After about twenty minutes of search and consideration, Hannah chose a beautiful snowy owl as her new familiar.

When they got to the counter and Hannah moved to pay, however, Professor McGonagall stopped her. Smiling slightly, she said, "Think of this as your birthday present, Hannah."

Hannah stammered for a moment, a blush creeping onto her face, "I-It's a-alright… You don't have to-"

"Nonsense," Professor McGonagall cut her off, "It's only polite, after all." She added by way of explanation.

And with that, she placed some gold on the counter, ignoring Hannah's increasing blush.

This was the first time someone had given her a present for her birthday (the Dursleys' so called 'gifts' didn't really count) and Hannah thought it was a wonderful feeling that blossomed in her heart at the moment.

"Thank you." Hannah whispered softly but earnestly as they left the owl shop. The professor's only response was a kind smile and a slight nod.

"What are you going to call her?"

Hannah thought for a moment. "How about Hedwig?"

Professor McGonagall nodded, "A beautiful name. Though I'm curious how you know it."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly and Hannah gave a sheepish smile, "I saw it in 'A History of Magic' as I was looking through it. I thought it was really nice."

"It is," the professor agreed, "though I should add that the original owner of the name is not quite as nice. I suggest you read the book, because though it is indeed a nice name and I am not against it, it is always best to know any negative connotations that might be attached to a certain name." She added with some emphasis.

Hannah nodded earnestly. The book sounded interesting, and maybe she'd find another name there.

"Now," Professor McGonagall glanced at her watch, "Perhaps we should have a bit of lunch."

Hannah nodded, suddenly realizing how empty her stomach was. She'd only taken a bite or two of breakfast when the professor had suddenly shown up.

"After lunch, we'll go to Ollivander's for your wand." The professor explained as she walked. "Then we'll move on to muggle London and buy you some new clothes."

With a bit of hurried step, she followed Professor McGonagall. "I know a nice place not too far from here."


	4. Lunch, Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah and Professor McGonagall stop for lunch, and they finally have some time to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... it's been years since this fic, but I've still been getting notifs for it up to this day, so I guess and hope, that there's still some demand? My only dip into the HP fandom these days is this RP site, but I figured I would get back into fanfiction, after trawling through some other fanfics on the site. Basically, I've missed it. As it's been six years though, I'm realizing I'm not quite content with what I've written before in this. I don't think it's too bad though, so I thought it would just be better to continue it and improve instead of rewriting the whole thing. On that note, this chapter right here was already half-written years ago, so all I've really had to do is polish it up a little and add to it. Er, don't expect too much though, because I decided to keep the style quite simple to fit the older chapters as well as the tone of the original books. Since Hannah is still only eleven, and this is told mostly from her POV, I think that fits pretty well. And uhh, on further updates... Well, I won't make any promises because I'll probably break them, but it shouldn't take six years, at least.

Lunch, it turned out, was a pleasant little café in a bright corner of Diagon Alley. The food itself, though simply prepared and presented, was delicious. It was also priced low enough that Hannah didn't feel too guilty about the professor paying.

Her aunt and uncle usually only fed her the barest minimum needed for survival and not a mouthful more, so the feeling of a belly full of good food was an unusual one, and one she savored as she leaned back into the chair. Having company that didn't hate her very existence was nice too, though Hannah soon found herself distracted by the other patrons.

The little café was full of other people that, like them, had stopped for a bit of lunch in the middle of their shopping. Though Hannah was aware that it was a bit rude, she couldn't help but feel curious about the other customers in the café. She assumed they were all wizards and witches, because how else would they be able to enter a magical street? Most were wearing robes like the professor too, though a few were wearing Muggle clothes like her. This helped to alleviate some of her anxiety as she had been a bit worried about standing out for wearing Muggle clothes. As someone who stood out most of her life for mostly negative reasons, Hannah was hoping for a fresh start in the Wizarding world.

Thanks to her curiosity, Hannah had been absorbed at staring at the other customers, and was therefore a bit startled when the professor called her name.

"Hannah." Professor McGonagall called for the third time.

"W-what?" Hannah finally managed to stutter out, and the professor gave a slightly exasperated sigh.

"Sorry, professor," she apologized with a slightly embarrassed smile. "I was a bit distracted by the other customers"

"It is all right, Hannah. I can't fault you for being curious about the Wizarding world," Professor McGonagall responded with a small and somewhat sad smile. "Especially since it is something whose existence you have only found out about mere hours ago."

Hannah nodded with a smile of her own. Then, remembering something, she said with equal parts nervousness and eagerness, "Professor McGonagall, I don't suppose you could tell me all about my parents now?"

The professor seemed a bit taken aback by the question, but composed herself after a brief moment.

"I suppose we have a bit of time," she answered after a quick glance at her watch. "Though we'd only have an hour to spare at most, and your parents' stories are rather long."

When Professor McGonagall saw her young companion's face fall, she added, "Do not worry. There will be much time in the future for me to tell you all about Lily and James Potter." Nodding, she went on to reassure, "We will still see each other in a few days' time, after all. Even after that, at Hogwarts, you need only visit me in my office."

Hannah's face brightened immediately. Normally, she was not the type to visit a teacher after class hours, but this was different. Stories about her parents were a great rarity, and Hannah wasn't going to let it slip by her if she could help it. "Thanks, professor."

The Deputy Headmistress gave a small smile of acknowledgement, before continuing with a light cough, "For now, let me tell you a bit about your parents as a prologue to future stories. Both Lily and James were Sorted into Gryffindor-"

"What does that mean, professor?" Hannah interrupted eagerly, and received a stern look from Professor McGonagall in response.

"I was just about to explain that, Hannah. I understand you are excited, which is very understandable but it is still rude to interrupt someone when they are speaking."

Feeling properly chastised and a little embarrassed, Hannah promised, "I'll try not to interrupt in the future."

"See that you do," Professor McGonagall said with stern look.

"As I was saying, Sorting is a test of sorts-the specifics of which will be kept secret until the day itself, in order to curtail any outside influence that would prevent it from attaining the most accurate results-that decides which House you belong to."

Hannah tried not to seem too nervous at this explanation, but the idea of some kind of test on her very first day sounded quite worrying. School stuff wasn't exactly her strong suit. She did better than Dudley, of course, but that didn't make anyone happy, so she'd always been forced to do a little worse instead. Now that she'd be far away from her cousin, there was no excuse not to do well. That presented its own problems though, because Hannah wasn't sure she could actually do all that well, at least, not as well as she wanted to. Before she could worry more, Professor McGonagall continued on, and Hannah forced her attention back on the woman.

"There are four Houses you may be Sorted into: Gryffindor, which I am the Head of House for, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Each House is famed for certain traits, which will be taken into consideration during their Sorting. There is bravery and chivalry for Gryffindor, intelligence and a thirst for knowledge for Ravenclaw, loyalty and hard work for Hufflepuff, and cunning and ambition for Slytherin. There are also animals associated with each House. A lion for Gryffindor, an eagle for Ravenclaw, a badger for Hufflepuff and a snake for Slytherin."

Her parents had been Gryffindors, the professor said. Hannah wasn't too sure what being "Head of House" involved, but it probably meant that the old woman was Gryffindor too. Bravery and chivalry. Hannah didn't think she was very brave or chivalrous. Every time she'd been faced with bullies, including Dudley, she'd run away, after all. What did being chivalrous mean, anyway? The eleven-year-old remembered that word being used about knights in Medieval times, which she was about as far away from as you could be.

The other Houses didn't sound like they were any better a fit for her though. Hannah liked to think she was reasonably intelligent, and she supposed she liked learning new things well enough. But was it enough to be in Ravenclaw? Loyalty and hard work seemed easier to achieve. Hannah was used to hard work from all the chores the Dursleys made her do anyway, and though she had to admit she had not ever felt much loyalty to her relatives before, that had more to do with them treating her terribly.

It fit better than Slytherin anyway. Cunning and ambitious, Hannah was not. Of course, she'd had fantasies before, of leaving the Dursleys and doing something grand to show the world that she was so much than a "freak". But was that being ambitious? Hannah didn't feel particularly cunning either, though she could remember having pulled one over Dudley a time or two and feeling very accomplished for it.

Hannah shook her head, suddenly aware that the professor had paused in speaking, clearly anticipating the swell of thoughts in her head and giving her time to think it through. Looking up, she could see Deputy Headmistress looking at her calmly, no sign of judgement or impatience on her face. It gave her the courage to ask, a little warily, "Are Houses really that important?"

The professor did not answer immediately, pausing thoughtfully, before she admitted, "It is, and it is not." The confusing answer made Hannah furrow her brow, but she held a hand to forestall any questions, and continued on. "During your stay at Hogwarts, in a way, your House will become something like your family. Each House has its own dormitories and common room, where you will spend most of your time in, and each House also has a professor acting as its Head, who will help you with any problems that arise."

Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor, Hannah remembered. That was good to know. Another reason to hope for that House, anyway.

"There is also a competition among the Houses for what is known as the House Cup. You can earn points for your House through answering questions during class or lose points through breaking a school rule. It is quite sought after, and the winner at the end of the school term will get their House colors on all the hangings during the feast."

Hannah gave a nod to show that she understood so far, though she wasn't sure she really did. Was this House Cup really that big of a deal? They'd had a few competitions in her school before, but other than the participants themselves, most students didn't care one way or another. Then again, in this one, it seemed everyone was technically a participant. Maybe that made all the difference. Plus, this was a magical school, and Hannah could understand being excited just about that.

"Now, while all that is important, it's equally important to remember that in the end, you are all students at Hogwarts, and the Houses are simply a way of encouraging you to uphold your best traits, as dictated by the four Founders centuries ago. House Pride is good, but we encourage encouraged for you to make friends in other Houses too, and broaden your horizons."

Once more, Hannah nodded along, though privately she wasn't too sure she understood the logic. What was the point of separating them like this, then? Was it just for the competition? She supposed it would encourage students to do well in class for points, so maybe it made sense from a teacher's point of view. After the thoughtful silence dragged on a little, and Hannah realized there was nothing left to explain, she spoke quickly, "I think I understand now, professor."

There was slightly skeptical nod of acknowledgement, before she asked, "You will understand better with time, Hannah. Now, do you have any more questions?"

Hannah had far too many of them, was the problem. But as she thought it over, her mind flashed to the blonde boy at Madam Malkin's and his question regarding houses. Remembering how Professor McGonagall's eyes had narrowed fractionally at his words, she half-recalled, half-questioned, "The boy earlier, at Madam Malkin's, he said he was sure he'd be in Slytherin, that all his family had been there?"

"I'm surprised you remembered, though I supposed I shouldn't be considering who your parents were. Even your father, inattentive as he was during classes, could remember even the most obscure of spells for his pranks." The professor shook her head slightly, the barest of smiles on her face.

Hannah flushed a little at the compliment and the favorable comparison to her parents. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to it.

"Many Wizarding families have a tradition of being Sorted into the same House, some going back dozens of generations. It is something most take pride in. That was likely what the boy's comment was referring to."

Hannah nodded. That made sense, she supposed, thinking of Dudley and how he was carrying on the Dursley family tradition of going to Smeltings.

"Did the Potter family have a tradition like that?" She asked, curious about the relatives she hadn't known. Aunt Petunia had never said anything about her father's side of the family, other than the fact that they were all dead. From the Potter family vault, she knew that her father's side had been magical for several generations, unlike her mother.

"The Potter family had members in all the Houses. But the highest concentration was in Gryffindor." This time, her smile was a little more obvious.

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. Though there was no one left in that side of the family to impress, she couldn't help but hope that she might carry on the family tradition and be Sorted into Gryffindor as well. After all, both her parents were in it, and so was the professor.

Professor McGonagall, sensing her train of thought, swiftly added, "There is nothing wrong with being Sorted into a House different from your family or from tradition." Though Hannah was a little embarrassed at being so obvious in her worries, she felt a little better at the reassurance. Considering how her own self-analysis had not given her high hopes for Gryffindor, that was especially good.

The mood shifted then, as Professor McGonagall took on a look of seriousness, quite an accomplishment considering her fairly stern demeanor typically. When she finally spoke, Hannah listened intently. "As I said earlier, both Lily and James were Sorted into Gryffindor, famed for bravery and chivalry. In time, both showed these traits splendidly. Especially in their deaths. You should be proud of both of them."

Hannah felt a flush of warmth in her heart and on her cheeks. Even though it was perhaps the third or fourth time the professor had spoken warmly of her parents, it was still so strange to hear someone speak of them in such a way, when she was so used the usual insulting remarks from Aunt Petunia. She felt proud and embarrassed all at once.

"T-thank you." Hannah replied as sincerely as she could, only tripping a little over the words as she tried to hide a flush.

"I only speak the truth." The professor replied, in a matter of fact way that was gentled by the kind look in her eyes. Soon though, an unreadable expression slipped on her face as she paused, visibly hesitating, before asking, "But… tell me, what have the Dursleys told you about your parents' deaths?"

"Er, that they died in a car crash? Because they were alcoholics..." Hannah trailed off uncertainly. Suddenly, the vague reason given by the Dursleys she had always accepted, because it was what they always said, seemed very inadequate.

Seeing the expression of barely restrained fury on the professor's face sent chills down her spine even though she knew it was not directed at her. Though Hannah still felt a bit confused, she could see the pieces start to fall into place. The Dursleys had lied to her, about magic, her parents, and how they died. All this time...

"That is a complete and utter lie, Hannah." Professor McGonagall confirmed her suspicions sternly, "I cannot believe-no, I can believe it quite easily, actually. The Dursleys' have a ridiculous and overblown fear and hate of magic, and your parents' deaths were most certainly magical."

At that revelation, Hannah's eyes widened in surprise, though it certainly did make sense. The Dursleys never liked to talk about "strange" things, and this seemed to fall under that quite handily.

"Hannah, I suspected that you didn't know, though I had hoped…" Professor McGonagall trailed off, before shaking her head lightly and saying, "I had not expected to be the one to tell you this, but perhaps it is for the best." She paused and took a deep breath, seemingly steeling herself. "Your parents were murdered by a very bad wizard whose name people still fear saying even today."

A calmer, more lecturing tone slipped into her voice as she explained, "The reason for this was a Taboo placed on the word during war time, which alerted him to the location of anyone saying it. Though it is irrational because he is gone—the reason for which I will get to in a moment-fear and paranoia are some of the common aftereffects of war. "

"What was his name?" Hannah couldn't help asking.

"Most people, even today, simply call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who. I am no exception to that rule." Professor McGonagall admitted with a bit of a shudder. There was a pause, where she took a deep breath, and Hannah could feel the anticipation in the air, before she finally revealed, "...Lord Voldemort was his name."

Hannah found herself flinching a little too, just by the professor's reaction. Just how terrifying was this man? Lord Voldemort. It seemed like just the name for a bad guy.

"As I said, he was a very bad man, and he was targeting both of your parents for having stood up to him. You were only an infant at the time, and for your safety, Lily and James went into hiding. Somehow though, You-Know-Who managed to find it, and he attacked." Professor McGonagall's took on a faraway look as she recalled the events. "No one knows what truly happened that night, but you can be sure that your parents acted with great courage befitting their House until the very end. That night, though both of your parents tragically died, you, Hannah, remained alive, as You-Know-Who vanished, not to be seen again."

"Because of this, since that night, you have been dubbed the 'Girl-Who-Lived' and your story is known all over the world. The first person to have survived the killing curse, and the Saviour of the Wizarding world, who banished You-Know-Who and ended the war."

Hannah could only look on in shock, unable to say a word for several moments. This was even more unbelievable than the news that she was actually a witch. She could not even begin to wrap her head around it all. Though the cafe they were in was brightly lit and filled with the sounds of cheerful conversation all around, Hannah thought it seemed faraway in that moment, as she thought of the parents she had never met, dying to protect her. She thought of Voledemort, and wondered what truly happened to him. There was no way she had actually managed to do anything to him, not when she'd been just a baby. Right?

"I understand that this is a lot to take in." Professor McGonagall gave her a sympathetic smile, that Hannah tried half-heartedly to return. It probably came off a bit more like a grimace the way her mind was still swimming with this news.

"What I have told you today regarding your You-Know-Who is common knowledge in the magical world. It has written about in numerous books, including Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century which you bought earlier today."

"I'm in a book?" Hannah could not believe it, and made a mental note to check later on. It was not as though she did not believe the professor's words, but to see it in a book, that she had bought not long ago, would make it real. She shook her head, finding the voice protest, "But it's not like I did anything. I was just a baby!"

Professor McGonagall conceded the point with a faint nod, before explaining, "True. But what happened that day was truly a miraculous event, and you were at the center of it all. As the only surviving participant involved, it is understandable that people would focus on you."

That made sense, she supposed, but she wasn't sure she accepted it. Frankly, Hannah still wasn't quite sure what to think of all of it, and the idea that all this was apparently something most people knew made her feel even stranger. Perhaps she had a few idle fantasies of fame and fortune, like anyone else, but in actuality, she didn't like to stand out at all. Fitting in was all she wanted to do, in her ill-fitting hand-me-downs, messy long hair and the strange happenings that always seemed to follow her around.

To think that she was somehow so famous, for something she could not remember… Hannah wasn't sure how she would handle it. Would people start going around asking about her parents and Voldemort? As she wondered what this supposed fame would entail, Hannah remembered a few things.

Wait a minute. Suddenly, a few incidents in the past made much more sense.

"I remember, some strangely dressed people walking up to me and shaking my hand, things like that. Once, someone even bowed to me in a shop." At the time, she'd been out with the Dursleys, and though Uncle Vernon had not noticed, she remembered Aunt Petunia looking like she'd swallowed a whole lemon at the sight. She'd never mentioned it after though, and Hannah herself had forgotten about it until now.

The professor looked rather disapproving at this admission, though not at Hannah, as her next words proved, "That was incredibly careless of them, to risk the Statute of Secrecy like that when they knew you were living with Muggles." Shaking her head, she sighed a little as she noted, "But that is exactly what I mean. Such incidents are only a fraction of the kind of spotlight you will be cast in once you officially enter the magical world at Hogwarts."

Hannah did not like the sound of that, and started feeling a little ill. It must've looked quite obvious, because Professor McGonagall gave her a faint smile before reassuring her in a very matter of fact way, "I'm sure you will be able to stand up to it admirably though."

While it was nice to know someone thought so highly of her, now Hannah was worried she would not live up to the temptations. Before she could worry any more about it though, the older woman spoke, glancing at her watch, "Our talk has dragged on for long enough I think, as we're already behind schedule." Briefly casting her an apologetic look, she went on, "I'm afraid you will have to save any more questions for next time."

Standing up, she gathered her things and gestured at Hannah to do the same. A little startled, she stood up with a bit of a wobble, before she got all her things in her arms and followed the Deputy Headmistress as she walked.

"Now, all we have left to do here at Diagon Alley is get your wand." Professor McGonagall informed her as they wove their way back into the crowd.

Though Hannah was a bit disappointed at not being able to ask any more questions, this seemed like a very good trade off. Perking up at the thought of being able to cast magic, she walked with a little more energy. Perhaps this whole magic thing was not going to be quite as nice as she initially thought, what with the Houses and evil wizards, but a wand was something straight out of a movie, and Hannah could not wait.


	5. New Wand and New Wardrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah finally gets her wand, though considering the commentary that comes with it, she's all too glad to get it over with.
> 
> Then, Professor McGonagall takes her out into Muggle London for clothes shoping, which proves to be a different kind of problematic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not six years at all! What did I say? :P

Eventually, they made their way to a less crowded district, which seemed quite a bit older than the rest of Diagon Alley by the look of the buildings. Most were rather worn-looking, with fading paint and lots of little nicks and cracks. Professor McGonagall stopped right near the end of the street. It was fairly small, and just as shabby looking as the rest of the area, though Hannah thought that once upon a time it might’ve looked quite nice.

  
Now though, it was rather disappointing. This was where she would get her wand? The eleven-year-old looked up at the professor, hoping it was some kind of mistake. Instead of saying so and having them turn back though, Professor McGonagall knocked on the door and went inside. Hannah had just enough time to glance at the name over the door, reading _Ollivander’s: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ before she followed.  
  
The interior of the shop was just as disappointing as the exterior, being quite cramped and having only a single chair as its furniture. Still, if the sign meant anything, they were in the right place. Hannah thought the shop certainly looked like it had been operating for centuries already, as she took note of some particularly spindly looking cracks on the walls. There was also a certain aura in the air, that made the back of her neck prickle, and she could easily believe there was magic in the air here, despite the shabby appearance.

  
“Good afternoon,” a soft voice floated in all of a sudden, making Hannah jump.

  
Swinging her attention away from the cracks on the wall, she found herself looking at an old man whose wide, pale eyes glinted brightly in the gloomy shop. “Um, hello.” Hannah said, after a bit of a pause.  
  
“Ah yes,” the man said, ignoring the greeting as he nodded to himself. “Yes, I thought I’d be seeing you soon, Hannah Potter.”

Hannah blinked.

Moving a little closer, he noted, “You have your father’s eyes.”  
  
Her eyes were hazel, a strange mix of colors that could change depending on the lighting. Uncle Vernon had said it was another sign of his freakishness, and Aunt Petunia had agreed. Hannah knew her red hair was from her mother, which she knew because her aunt had mentioned it offhandedly a few times, with a thin press of her lips. There were also a few times when her aunt had looked at her like she was seeing someone else. This strange man seemed to be the same way now.

  
“It seems only yesterday he was in here himself, buying his first wand. Mahogany, eleven inches, pliable. Powerful and excellent for Transfiguration.” He was looking at her with those silvery eyes of his. Though Hannah managed not to flinch, it quite a near thing, especially when he stared so long without blinking. Somehow, despite everything that she’d seen so far already, this was the strangest feeling encounter yet. “Your mother, on the other hand, favoured Willow---well, I say favoured, but it’s the wand that chooses the witch, of course. It was ten and a quarter inches long, very swishy, I recall. Great for charm work.”

  
By now, Mr. Ollivander moved close enough that Hannah dearly wished to be able to step back, and could not help flinching away a little when he came nearly nose to nose with her. Thankfully, that was when Professor McGonagall coughed lightly, and he turned those silver eyes onto the Deputy Headmistress.

  
“ _Ah!_ Minerva McGonagall. A long time since I’ve seen you here. Nine and a half inches long, fir with dragon heartstring, correct?” He nodded a little to himself before the professor even answered. “Best fit for Transfiguration too.”  
  
“Yes, it is.” Professor McGonagall confirmed a little needlessly, giving a short nod of respect. Clearly, despite the man’s rather kooky ways, he was as much an expert as his shop proclaimed. “We’re here to get Hannah here her first wand.”  
  
“Of course, of course,” the man nodded once again, more firmly this time, before pulling out a long measuring tape with silver markings. “Which is your wand arm?”

  
He directed the question at Hannah, who startled at being addressed again, before managing to reply, “ _Uh_ , I’m right-handed? If that’s what you mean.”

  
It seemed to be the case, and he instructed for her to hold out her arm, as he measured from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, and just about everywhere else. Hannah was a bit confused about the need for it all, seeing as she wasn’t going to wear the wand on her head like a dress. At some point, the tape started to measure all on its own, as Mr. Ollivander started going about the shop, flitting through shelves and poking in boxes. Hannah tried to keep still, even though the sensation of a tape floating in midair so close to her nostrils was making her want to sneeze. Before anything could happen though, the tape measure crumpled to the floor, and he handed her a wand, explaining, “That will do. Right then, try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches, flexible.”

  
Hannah tentatively took the wand, not quite sure what to do with it, until he motioned for her to wave it around. Feeling just a little silly, despite having seen how it could work, she tried waving it around for a bit. Only instants later though, the wand was snatched out of her hand, and another was put in its place. “Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches, and quite whippy.”  
Before Hannah could do more than raise it though, it was quickly taken from her hands and replaced as well.

  
This continued on for some time, until she felt as though she was stuck in some kind of silly slapstick comedy that never seemed to reach the punchline. Wands were handed and taken and piled onto the chair until it grew into a small mountain that looked like it would topple over any second now. Professor McGonagall was looking at them with her usual calm, though there was a faint glimmer in her eyes that made Hannah think she was probably enjoying this more than she seemed.

  
Mr. Ollivander wasn’t trying to hide his happiness at all, as he flitted around with almost manic cheer, oblivious to the faint frown growing on Hannah’s face. Was getting a wand supposed to be this hard? Did this mean that she was so bad at magic, none of these wands would work for her? Hannah thought that this was not a very good start to becoming a real witch at all.

  
“Tricky customer, eh?” Mr Ollivander seemed all too pleased at the thought, before he continued, “Not to worry though. _Hmm.._ In fact, I think I have one here---Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Nice and supple.”

  
Hannah was a bit too busy with her thoughts to pay too much attention to his words, but her worries quickly faded away when a new wand was handed to her. Suddenly, she could hardly remember why she was so worked up, as a new warmth spread over her fingers. This time, when she raised the wand, it was with the distinct feeling of something about to happen. A stream of sparks shot through the end, creating a rainbow of lights on the walls and making Hannah grin widely. From the side, Professor McGonagall was smiling as well, if more sedately.

  
“ _Bravo!”_ Mr. Ollivander cried. “Very good. Oh, very good indeed.” Having finally found the proper wand, he began putting the wand back into the box and wrapping it in brown paper. As he did though, Hannah could hear him muttering, “How very curious though.. So _curious_ …”

  
A little worried at this, and, well, curious herself, Hannah could not help but ask, “Sorry, but what’s so curious?”  
  
The wandmaker turned to fix his unnerving silvery eyes on her again, making her regret asking at all. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Ms. Potter. So I remember, that this wand of yours… Well, the same phoenix gave another feather--just one--used in another wand. The very wand that gave you that scar.”

  
Hannah felt her forehead tingle, like she’d been shocked with electricity, and she swallowed nervously. What was she supposed to say to that?

  
“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches, made with Yew, as I recall it. _Curious_ indeed how these things happen.” He nodded to himself, though Hannah felt that “curious” was not quite the proper word for such a situation. “The wand chooses the wielder, remember. I think, that we must expect great things from you, Ms. Potter, just as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things---terrible, yes, but _great_.” His wide silvery eyes seemed to pop out of his skull then, and Hannah shivered under such a gaze, the words echoing in her ears.

  
“That’s enough of _that_ , Mr. Ollivander.” A stern voice cut through the chilly mood of the shop, and her head whipped around to see Professor McGonagall looking a bit more coldly at the wandmaker. With all the commotion, Hannah had forgotten she was even there. She was thankful now, though. “I’m afraid we are on something of a schedule at the moment.”

  
“Of course, of course.” The wandmaker nodded, turning away from the two and returning to the work he was doing. In a few more moments, he was finished with the wrapping. “That will be seven galleons, Ms. Potter.”

  
Quickly rummaging through her bag, she paid the proper amount of coins and was handed a box with her wand. “Thank you,” Hannah mumbled, as she carefully placed it away. From just behind her, Professor McGonagall offered a small nod of thanks herself, before placing a light hand on Hannah’s shoulder, directing her away from the shop.

\---

The two exited back into the streets of Diagon Alley, where the sun glinted brightly. Hannah blinked a little in the sudden light and released a small sigh of relief. While it was great to have gotten her wand, she was glad she didn’t have to go back in there again anytime soon.

  
There wasn’t much time for the break, because after only a few moments of standing around, the professor spoke up, “Now, it’s about time for some additions to your wardrobe.”

  
Hannah nodded, perking up at the thought that she would no longer have to wear Dudley’s ridiculous hand-me-downs. The older witch led her down Diagon Alley again, all the way back through the wall into the Leaky Cauldron.

  
Once inside, Professor McGonagall waved her wand, muttering a quick spell that caused her robes to transform into a blouse and skirt combination that were distinctly less witchy looking. Hannah’s eyes widened at the sight.

  
“Professor, if you can just do that, why do I have to buy new clothes at all?” She questioned with a slight frown.

  
“Changing an entire wardrobe by magic is quite a bit of work, Ms. Potter. Not to mention, a transfigured article of clothing is more likely to come loose or succumb to wear and tear, especially when cast by inexpert hands.” Waving a hand towards her current ensemble, she explained further. “Thus, such clothing is best used only on temporary occasions.”

  
That sounded a bit like Cinderella’s story, she thought, which made sense, she supposed, since it was magic too, after all. Seeing Hannah’s nod of understanding, the professor moved on to her next task.

  
She flicked her wand once more, and the rather funny-shaped packages they had in hand to grow small enough that they fit in the palm of one hand. The eleven-year-old’s eyes widened even further at that. That was certainly a handy spell to know, she thought.

  
All that remained was Hedwig in her cage. Turning towards the snowy owl, she wondered of the professor was going to shrink her down as well. Instead, however, the older witch merely took the cage and approached the barman, requesting that he momentarily look after her while they went out to Muggle London.

  
Hannah was a little disappointed not to see a miniature Hedwig (it would’ve been just _adorable_ , she was sure), and it seemed the professor picked up on that, because she explained, “While it is possible to transfigure an animal into a smaller size, such as I have with our things, it is considering quite disrespectful and cruel to do so, and indeed any transfiguration, on a familiar.”

  
Pausing and giving a pointed look at the snowy owl that was currently eying the barman somewhat distrustfully, Professor McGonagall continued, “They are, after all, a witch or wizards companions and typically much more intelligent than non-magical animals.”

  
Nodding in understanding, she accepted this easily. Though Hannah didn’t have much experience with owls, it was obvious that Hedwig was quite a fair bit different from your typical Muggle one. Knowing they would need to leave now, she gently stroked the owl’s feathers as she said goodbye, promising to return quickly. Hedwig cooed in response, seemingly understanding and giving her own parting remark.

  
Then, Professor McGonagall led them both out the door, until they were stepping back out into Muggle London.

  
\---

  
After that, it was a rather winding trek down to the Underground, where they rode for several minutes. It was almost as unusual an experience for Hannah as Diagon Alley, because the Dursleys typically went everywhere by car, so, on the rare occasions she was let out for more than school, that was the only transportation she knew. So, Hannah continued to enjoy the trip, and the way they were taking it, though she could not help but wonder they were not simply using the same magical method they had used to get to Diagon Alley.

  
When asked, Professor McGonagall explained, “That is because our destination is a _Muggle_ one, Ms. Potter. We do not want to carelessly Apparate somewhere and end up drawing the attention of a street full of Muggles by accident.”

  
Despite being a witch, and knowing it for more than a day, Professor McGonagall seemed quite at home in the Underground and all across Muggle London in general. Perhaps this was the reason why, Hannah thought.

  
Eventually, they reached they stop, and the professor led them towards the stairs up to one of the exits. When they were above ground once more, they appeared to be in a fairly bustling shopping district, filled with several fashion boutiques that seemed rather expensive. Once again, Hannah looked around with clear interest, as this was also an unfamiliar place for her. It was not, admittedly, quite as exciting as Diagon Alley, but it was filled with rather pretty clothes nearly everywhere she looked.

  
Professor McGonagall seemed to have a specific shop in mind, as she easily led them past several stores filled with clothing, walking determinedly forward at a quick enough pace that Hannah could only spare a few moments to look at what they were passing by.

  
Finally, they stopped at a rather large looking store with child-sized mannequins sporting a variety of different clothes displayed in its windows. From the display alone, they came in several styles, from casual wear to more formal clothes. Hannah could only look for a short moment though, as Professor McGonagall had quickly stepped inside, and she hurried to follow.

  
There were quite a few people inside, various children of different ages, genders and sizes, all accompanied by some adult or another. Hannah and the professor blended right in amongst the crowd. At least, on the outside. Professor McGonagall seemed calm as always, but there was a hint of tension, a stiffness to her shoulders that betrayed her. Still, Hannah was feeling enough of her own to not notice.

  
Feeling more than a little lost, she looked around the store, at all the racks filled with clothes and wondered where to even begin.

  
Hannah had never been the type of girl to pay excessive attention to her appearance, mostly because the Dursleys would not have stood for it. There was no point caring about how she looked, when she would never look any good anyway. Besides, she had far more important things to worry about than whether or not she was pretty.

  
( _Still, when the other girls in her class crowded around magazines and started chattering about beauty tips and fashion, some part of her wanted to join in, wanted to_ belong)

  
Hannah had never even been to a clothing store like this before, let alone given the freedo to essentially choose whatever she wanted. How was she supposed to even start? Looking up at the professor, she tried to find some hint of what to do.

  
Instead, Professor McGonagall said, “Go on, Hannah. Have a look around and pick what you like.”

  
That was all well and good, Hannah thought, if only she had a clue. Still, she did as directed and started towards one of the racks, flicking through the clothes with a wary and confused eye. The colors were all bright and distracting, full of cartoon figures or funny patterns, and they all started to blend together the more she looked, until she was feeling a little dizzy from all the choices.

  
Before she could panicking further, however, a saviour swooped in, in the form of an overly cheerful, blonde saleslady.

  
“How can I help you, dear?” She asked brightly, directing her enthusiastic expression right at Hannah. There was a moment it flickered, when the gaze glanced down at at the clothes (if you could call such an atrocity to fashion that) the eleven-year-old had on, but professionalism quickly had the smile pasted back into place.

  
Still feeling all too intimidated by everything, Hannah could barely emit a squeak. Thankfully, the professor spoke up then. “She is in need of a full wardrobe.”

  
The woman nodded, not asking questions, though the look in her eyes suggested she highly wanted to, and only her need to uphold her job stopped her. Turning to face Hannah, she asked, “Do you have some idea of what you’d like, dear?”

  
A little startled at being addressed directly again, Hannah muttered uncertainly, “Er, not really…”

  
Instead of being disappointed, the woman only looked even more cheerful at this answer. Smiling widely, in a way that made Hannah freeze, she said, “In that case, might I make a few suggestions?”

  
It turned out that the saleslady had quite a bite more than a few suggestions, and Hannah was soon laden with more than handful of various articles of clothing before she was shuffled off in the direction of the nearest changing room. All of it happened in a whirlwind motion that had the redhead half-wondering if the saleslady was a witch too.

  
Shaking her head a little, she turned her attention to the rather large pile in her hands. Carefully placing the stack on the little stool inside the changing room, she took the first thing she found and spread it out.

  
It turned out to be a pretty blue dress, patterned with tiny red and purple flowers. For a moment, Hannah could only hold it in her hands, quite aware that it was one of the nicest things she’d ever held in it. Now, she would be wearing it. Somehow, this was almost as disorienting and hard to believe as magic.

  
Well, Hannah was going to grab it all with both hands and enjoy it as much as she could, she determined. Quickly shucking off the ill-fitting shirt and pants she wore now, she far more carefully picked up the dress and went about putting it on. Not used to wearing such fancy clothes, or dresses at all, it was a little easier said than done.

  
Still, eventually, she managed it, and soon, she was looking in the mirror.

  
Generally, Hannah did not spend much time studying her reflection. If her aunt or uncle caught her “dilly-dallying” like that, it would no doubt gain her quite an earful, so it was rarely worth the effort. Even in school, away from her relatives’ prying eyes, there was still the judgemental gazes of her classmates, of the pretty girls in pretty skirts and dresses, who would never be caught wearing their male cousin’s hand-me-downs. So, Hannah did not typically glance at a mirror for more than a second or two, and certainly never paid close attention to what she saw.

  
Until _now_.

  
Hannah had always been thin, gangly, really, with a certain awkwardness to her movements that was evident even when standing still. The awkwardness was only heightened by the clearly ill-fitting and boyish clothes she wore that had once belonged to her cousin.

  
But in the dark blue floral dress that flowed out at the waist, she didn’t look awkward at all. Well, she did feel a little strange, because she wasn’t used to the feeling of wearing a dress at all, but she didn’t look strange. Instead, she looked… _pretty_.

  
For a long moment, Hannah could only stare at the reflection on the mirror, a little struck dumb at the sight. There was a smile curling at the edge of her lips, unconsciously admiring. A knock at the door startled her out of her daze.

  
“Ms. Potter, perhaps you could come out and show us what you’ve worn?” That was the saleslady’s voice, piping up from the other side of the door. Dragging her gaze away from the mirror, Hannah went ahead and unlocked the door, stepping out into the two older women’s view.

  
There was a soft gasp, and Hannah hesitated, head ducking in embarrassment. The sound of excited clapping drew her head back up. It was the saleslady, looking rather excited and proud of herself. “Oh, you look so pretty, dear! I could just eat you up.” She added with a soft giggle.

  
Blushing a little at such praise, she turned towards the professor, mostly so she could avoid the saleslady’s enthusiastic gaze. But the older witch was looking at her strangely. In fact, if Hannah didn’t know any better, she looked almost tearful. But that didn’t make any sense.

  
“Oh, Hannah…” Professor McGonagall breathed out. “You look just like your mother.”

  
Hannah blinked a little at that, head automatically shifting back towards the mirror, as though she might be able to see her mother in the reflection as well. She knew she had her mother’s long red hair and her father’s hazel eyes. But she thought that was it, mostly.

  
Once, when she had been cleaning out the Dursley’s attic, she had found an old photo album. There had been several pictures of two little girls in various stages of growth. She had not recognized it for what it was at first, but as the little blonde grew into Aunt Petunia, Hannah had realized that she was staring at pictures of her mother.

  
Her mother had been a pretty girl, she remembered thinking.

  
Somehow, though her aunt had occasionally mentioned the resemblance, mostly by muttering to herself when she thought Hannah could hear, and the more recent comments from the wandmaker, she herself had never been quite able to see it. After all, her mother had been a pretty girl.

  
( _A happy, lively girl,_ she thought. _One who probably had actual friends and didn’t get constantly bullied by their cousins_.)

  
But now, with a dress that fit her, and a smile on her face, Hannah thought she could see the resemblance.

  
\---

  
There were quite a few more dresses after that. And skirts, and shirts and pants too. There were even shoes and socks, as well as a hat or two (though Professor McGonagall had said, with a faint smile, that she would a proper witch’s hat to go with her school robes). By the end of it, they were laden with as many packages as when they’d finished in Diagon Alley, and Hannah’s coin pouch was feeling distinctly lighter.

  
Hannah was feeling rather tired by the end of it too. While trying on all sorts of clothes had been fun, the sheer amount she had gone through had been a bit much. If she didn’t see another clothing store for the rest of the year, she would probably only sigh in relief. Certainly, she felt like she had bought enough clothes for a lifetime, though Professor McGonagall had told her that with the way she was likely to grow, she would likely be returning to the shop in a year or two at most. Hannah had frowned a little at that, though the saleslady seemed happy at least.

  
In any case, Hannah had been all too eager to leave and go back to Diagon Alley to pick up Hedwig. Thankfully, since their destination was magical once more, Professor McGonagall had merely guided them into an unused alley and Apparated them back to the Leaky Cauldron, instead of having them take the Underground again. Thank goodness for magic, Hannah thought gratefully, even if Apparating did still make her stomach twist rather unpleasantly.

  
Finally, Hannah was able to gather Hedwig in her arms, while the professor magically shrunk down the bags they had from the clothing shop. Then, she was placing a hand on Hannah again, and they Apparated back to the Dursley’s house in Privet Drive.

  
\---

  
The professor made sure to enter with Hannah in tow, escorting her to her room, and magically unshrinking the packages they’d bought so that they now filled up the second bedroom, instead of all of Dudley’s old, broken toys. Then, with a suggestion that Hannah begin unpacking her things, she stepped out into the hall to have a “talk” with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley.

  
Hannah crept to the door to try to eavesdrop, but it seemed that the professor had cast some spell or another, because she could not hear a word despite the short distance. A little disappointed, she crept back to bed instead, a little too tired to work on unpacking, despite the professor’s words. She would do it tomorrow, she decided. Plopped down in bed, Hannah thought instead.

  
There had been a gasp, Hannah remembered, from Aunt Petunia, when she had first caught sight of her. She had looked a little like she’d seen a ghost, and Hannah assumed that, much like the professor, she had looked rather much like her mother. While she liked the idea of being so physically connected to her parents still, even though they were no longer here, she was starting to suspect that she would get rather sick of the reactions quickly.

  
How many people had known her mother, in Hogwarts? Would they keep looking at her with those eyes? Combined with the fact that she was apparently incredibly famous for something she couldn’t even remember doing (though, there were those odd dreams, that suddenly made a bit more sense now), Hannah was starting to wonder if Hogwarts was going to be so great after all. But she shook away the thought quickly. It was a school of magic! Certainly, Hannah could put up with a bit of… _annoyance_ , for that.

  
Mentally nodding at this, Hannah reminded herself of everything magical that had already happened, down to the new wardrobe that hadn’t come from Dudley or a thrift store. No matter what came with it, the redhead was sure her life could only get better from here, now that magic had come into her life.

  
With that thought in mind, Hannah’s eyes slid close of their own volition, and she drifted off into a tired sleep, a soft smile on her lips. 


End file.
